


Taking on Caffrey

by china_shop



Category: White Collar
Genre: AU, Fic, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-03
Updated: 2010-08-03
Packaged: 2017-10-10 22:38:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/105145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/china_shop/pseuds/china_shop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A mix'n'match AU of the pilot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Taking on Caffrey

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to Sage for beta and discussion. &lt;3

"Agent Burke!" Jones bounded up the stairs with a sheaf of official forms in his hand. "The Caffrey paperwork's arrived."

"About time," said El, looking up from her desk. She took the forms and checked they were properly signed and notarized. "Call the prison warden and tell him to expect me at two."

"On it," said Jones, heading for the door.

As soon as he'd gone, Diana came and leaned in the doorway. "You want me to come too?"

"No." El could handle Caffrey on her own. "You get a team together—bring in Mozz from ERT—and see what else you can make of the Barcelona communiqué. I want to know what the Dutchman's deal is. I want to know where he is, what he wants, who he's talking to and what he had for breakfast."

Diana smiled. "You got it, boss."

 

* * *

 

El called the prison when she arrived, but she didn't go in. This was an important transition for Caffrey, and she needed him to associate her with freedom and (legal) opportunities so she'd have some kind of pull with him. She was under no illusions that reining him in would be less than a full-time job—she just hoped it would be worth it.

The door opened, and there he was, wearing a long black coat and a dazed grin like he hadn't seen daylight in years.

"Let me see it," said El, before he could get too comfortable.

He pulled up his pants leg to reveal the GPS tracker, and she made him explain how the arrangement would work.

"If you run—" El pinned him with a steely look. "Well, you know what Shakespeare said about a woman scorned?"

He raised his eyebrows. "'Hell hath no fury like—'?"

"Yes, that." El pushed off the hood of the car and stood squarely in front of him. "He only said that because he'd never met a federal agent. If you run, I'll catch you—you know I will—and you won't just be back here for four years. You're back for good."

Caffrey nodded.

"You'll be tempted to look for Kate. Don't."

"With you holding my leash? I wouldn't dream of—" He started to smirk, and El cut that off quickly too.

"I'm not your mom and I'm not your girlfriend. Don't even try to flirt with me or play me."

The smile vanished, and Caffrey raised both his hands in surrender. "I wouldn't dare."

"Good." El adjusted her holster. "Because not only am I responsible for you, but I'm also immune to your legendary charm and happily married to a man who could kick your ass up one side of Manhattan and down the other." She got into the car and waited while he slid into the passenger seat.

He looked across at her, his face neutral, as he did up his seatbelt.

She tried not to smile. "Laying it on too thick?"

He angled his head, carefully deferential. "A little, but I get the point."

She nodded. "This is a temporary situation. Behave yourself and help me catch the Dutchman, and we'll talk about making it permanent."

 

* * *

 

El spent the next two days in a state of vigilance, expecting that any moment Caffrey would try to scam someone or do something even more outrageous than conning a total stranger into giving him luxurious room and board.

On Wednesday morning, El took Satch for a run, letting her tension fall away with every step. She went twice around the park and was nearly home again when Jones called.

"Caffrey's outside his radius. Is he with you?"

All the dispelled tension snapped right back into her body. "No," she said shortly. "I'll be right there."

She put on a burst of speed and was at her back door in a minute. She glanced at Satch's water bowl to make sure it was full, and yelled, "Honey, I have to go to work!"

There were voices coming from the living room. El used the hem of her t-shirt to wipe the sweat from her forehead and went to investigate.

Peter and Caffrey were leaning over the dining table, side by side, looking at brochures of safes, and Peter was pointing at one and saying, "This one is uncrackable."

Caffrey shot him a sly look. "If you say so."

"Are you trying to tell me you—" Peter turned, and god, they were only inches apart. What were the chances Neal hadn't lifted Peter's wallet and keys already?

"Caffrey! What the hell are you doing in my house?" snapped El, reaching for her phone. Both men jumped and stood up at once, but El was too busy calling Jones to do anything but glare. "Caffrey's with me."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, he's right here. Call off the sniffer dogs." She hung up and took a furious step toward Caffrey, jabbing her finger at him. "What are you doing in my house? Why are you talking to my husband? What's your angle?" Peter's eyes widened, and El threw up her hands. He really was far too trusting for an independent security consultant. She turned on Caffrey again. "You activated your tracker. You're in my house, talking to my husband, and you—"

"Honey, we were just talking shop," said Peter, soothingly.

"Neal doesn't have a shop," said El. "He has a fence."

Neal held up his hands, palms out. "Your husband's a really smart guy, Elizabeth. Not that that's any surprise—"

"I don't need your approval," El told him. "You're supposed to be—"

Satchmo trotted into the dining room, his muzzle dripping. He headed straight for Neal, sat at his feet and gazed up at him adoringly. Neal scratched his ears.

"My dog," said El, feeling the last remnants of her life spin out of control. "That's it. I'm putting you back in prison." She reached for her phone again.

"I know who the Dutchman is," said Neal quickly.

"You can't talk your way out of this one." She dialed.

Neal raised his hands even higher. "Curtis Hagen."

El paused with her phone to her ear. Jones was saying something, but—

"Show her," said Peter, grinning.

 

* * *

 

The sirens cut out with a series of _whoop_s as the fleet pulled up outside the warehouse. Once El had figured out what was going on, she'd gone from frustrated to elated, but now she was worried, too. She was just starting to like Neal, and there was every chance he'd be badly hurt or worse. Hagen's men hadn't wasted any time taking out the rare book dealer at the airport, and they had even less reason to keep Neal alive.

But even that fear couldn't wholly diminish the triumph of bursting into the warehouse with a SWAT team and seeing exactly what she'd known was there: printing presses, Spanish bonds in various states of completion, pale-faced bad guys and—thank God—Neal, safe and sound in a bullet-proof-glass inner office. He grinned at her and welcomed her in.

"Caught you again," said El, hiding her relief. "Some escape artist you turned out to be."

"I'll try harder next time," said Neal unconvincingly. Their eyes met, and for a second, his warm gaze did something to the pit of her stomach.

She looked away—to the safe standing open. "Is that the original Victory bond?"

"I believe it is," said Neal. "Oh, and you might want to tell Peter I was right about the FB-2013."

She raised her eyebrows.

"Less than thirty seconds." He was so pleased with himself, she nearly handcuffed him then and there, but he had just saved her however many months of chasing the Dutchman all over the country.

She folded her arms. "Good work."

"Woof," he said drily, and she couldn't help it. She burst out laughing.

He grinned too, enjoying the moment, and El thought _You know, I think this is actually going to work._

 

END


End file.
